Marty goes wayyy back
by Jewelz1
Summary: Marty finds out biff has stolen the instructions on how to make the time machine- Marty goes back in time to stop him and save the newsies!! READ NEW, FIFTH CHAPTER, ADDED 6-15-01!
1. Default Chapter

This is just a REALLY short opening chapter- I promise you- there is lots more to come, and it will be a lot more interesting. Hope you like my fan fic debut! Lol  
  
Marty kicked off the sidewalk, onto his skateboard, and found a rush of cool, spring air. Sure, he could always take his black 4 by 4 to school now, but he felt like he was loosing his touch.   
He kept going until found an old ford Angelina he could hitch a ride on the back of. Past the Lone Pine Mall, the Burger King, and finally, His good friend Doc Brown's old lab. He sighed. Doc was currently living happily in the year 1885- exactly 100 years into the past.   
The car came to a stop at the railroad tracks. Marty sighed again. That too brought back memories of his adventures with his scientist friend. He was so lost in thought that Marty hardly realized the whistle of the train sounded very different……  
Suddenly, a number of people shrieked. Some jumped from their cars and stared down the tracks. What was going on? Marty peered down the silent field with everyone else, and then he saw it. Coming his way, was an enormous black Locomotive that looked like something out of an old western. In fact, Marty reminded himself, it was.   
Doc Brown was waving a long, gloved hand out the window.  
"Doc!" Marty screamed, forgetting he was now being watched by the entire crowded and began to run after the train. He jumped with all his might onto the caboose, grabbing hold of the side railing. Many people in the crowd gasped. Above him, he noticed a purple gloved hand was trying to hoist him up. He looked up to see Doc's wife, Clara.   
With one last tug, he was safely on board, and turning around a bend in the tracks. To see the transfixed faces of the crowd disappear.   
"Good to see you Marty" said Clara, hugging him.   
"Yah, same" Marty agreed. The rhythmic motion of the train's wheels were now picking up speed. The wind was now rushing past Clara's hair faster and faster, pulling it out of its tight bun. She smiled a slightly blurred smile at the expression on his face.  
"Your right," she said, as though reading his thoughts, "we are trying to reach 88 miles an hour"   
Marty looked furiously to the front of the train. The blur of the wheels seemed like they were going to explode any minute. "where are we going?" he asked her. But the sound of his voice was muffled by two enormous bangs, a rush of wind, and then when he looked up, he was back in 1885, slowly gliding by fields upon fields of golden wheat.  
  



	2. Chapter 2- 1885!!

Marty just watched as the serene countryside flowed past him, his mouth forming a small, "o' in surprise.  
"we're in... we're...." he gasped  
Just then, Doc came running through the door to the caboose, slamming it behind him  
"DOC!" Marty cried, "how have ya been?? I- Doc?"   
The scientist was now sitting heavily on the elaborate metal railing. He wasn't smiling.  
" Marty it's good to see you too, but I'm afraid that your jumping on the train like that   
was no coincidence, we-we came to collect you for a reason.  
Now Clara was frowning too. Marty felt his stomache lurch. Was there something wrong with his future?  
- or past?   
Trying not to think about this mystery and enjoy his first day back in 1885, Marty looked ahead  
to see the railroad station pulling into view. One single railroad conductor was standing on the   
dusty platform, smiling a toothless smile.   
"Old Bill," Clara said, once again as though she had read Marty's thoughts. "Doc has given up   
the blacksmith job, and have told the town that now he's a railraad conductor. The wouldn't understand,  
of course. Clara and Doc shifted uncomfortably were they sat.   
Doc rushed up the cattle cars to the conductor's seat, Marty close behind, and pulled hard on a lever. The  
Train came screechily to a stop.   
"Hiya Mista Brown!' Old Bill greeted him as Doc climbed off the train. "And Ma'am," he added, bowing   
slightly. "An' whose dis feller?" he asked, eyeing Marty's futuristic clothes suspiciously.  
Doc cleared his throat. " er.. Miles Hoften, here to help me with some of my latest inventions"  
Old Bill chuckled."ya think them strange mockasins gonna be on the market next? harharhar"   
Doc smiled weakly at Marty's Nikes  
"Anyway, Bill, how about my carriage then?"  
"right over there Mista'!" Bill said, tossing his head in the direction of a wooden cart with two   
horses hitched to it.   
"thank you" Doc replied, quickly ushering Marty away from the old man.  
"good old 1885" Marty said, climbing into the cart.   
"You'll have to be careful Marty" Doc said urgently. "here, put this on" He handed Marty a long poncho and a cowboy   
hat, as well as some boots.   
With one "yah!" and a slap of the reins, they were off down the familiar dirt roads, horses kicking up dust behind.  
******  
woh, this is soo wierd doc!" what happened to this place?"  
Marty was expecting to see a long, dirt raod main street, a few buildings, and a half finished clock tower,   
like it had been when he'd last came. But instead, the town was so BIG. There were huge brick buildings,   
a fine cobblestone street, and the clock tower stood proudly at the end of main street, completely  
finished and gleaming in the sunlight.   
"what happened?!" Marty asked, his eyes going wide Doc laughed. "Marty, your just not thinking fourth   
dementionally!"   
Marty rolled his eyes.  
You see" Doc explained. "even though its only been a few months since you've been in 1885, I've been living here for four fourteen years- its now   
1899!!"  
Marty stared, 'what!" he said  
"Come on," Clara broke in, "come and see our home!"   
In a few short minutes, Marty was standing outside a happy yellow cottage, with a picket fence. Two dappled- gray ponies   
were grazing nonchalantly in a nieghboring field.   
Suddenly, a pair of young boys in brown trousers, and creme shirts came running out, greeting Doc with a hug.   
'Hello boys!" he said cheerily. "I believe you've met Marty, my friend from the future? Marty, you remember Jewels and Vern?"  
The boys waved calmly, as though people from the future always turned up at thier house.  
"Come on inside" Clara advised.  
The house was small but cozy, with a table and a few chairs sitting around it. a stove sat in the corner, and many other odd  
metal objects were strewn around the room on side tables, no doubt some of Doc's newest inventions.  
After Clara had made him a cup of tea, Marty remebered about the thing that she and Doc had mentioned on the train that they didn't   
sound to happy about.  
"Um, Doc?" he asked, not knowing how to begin  
'he wants to know why we brought ihm back here" Clara said knowingly, winking at Marty, who just   
stared in amazement.  
Doc sighed, and gave Marty a newspaper from the table. The headline read, in huge, bold letters  
"TANNON GOES ON NEWSIE RAMPAGE, OVER 150 DIE"  
  



	3. Chapter 3- to the newsies!!

Marty looked blankly at Doc for a while. " I'm not following you, Doc." He said. "Are you saying…. Mad Dog Tannon escaped from jail?"  
Doc waved his arms impatiently in the air. "no Marty, that's not what I mean at all! It's not Mad Dog Tannon who's responsible for this, it's Biff!"  
"what??" Marty yelled in surprise  
"Just keep reading!" Doc said  
Marty looked down once more at the article…..  
  
A shooting of about 150 newsies was reported today in Manhattan, where The newsboys were out for their usual days' work of selling. Out of no where, a man showed up on a crowded street in strange blue pants and a sort of black shirt without sleeves, and proclaimed himself as Biff Tannon. He them took out a sort of rifle from behind his back and started shooting loudly and rapidly into the bustling crowd, killing about every newsie he saw.   
"Don't know what his motive was," Said one surviving newsie, named David, through heavy sobs. "But-but…. He killed cowboy!!!!"  
"Awww….. the heck wit him" Said another, identifying himself as Spot Conlon. "He escaped this time, but us newsies will fight for our rights!"  
Police are still trying to find the culprit, and a heavy rumor is going around that he may be related to the notorious Mad Dog Tannon, who was sent to jail fourteen years ago thanks to the heroic acts of legend Clint Eastwood.   
  
" How… How.." Marty began, after he finished reading the article.  
Doc sighed sadly. "The only way Biff could possibly go back to kill all the newsies is by time travel.   
"But, the Delorium is destroyed!' Marty exclaimed. " And the only other means of travel is that train!"  
"That's what I thought Marty." Doc said. "But it turns out that now there is another means of time travel. When Clara and I went to1885, not only did we pick up you, but we visited my old house. Almost everything was still the same, except one thing was missing.  
Marty stared, waiting for him to go on.  
"It was my files on how to build the time machine." Doc said sadly. 'Biff must have broken into my house and stolen them. Why shouldn't he believe the time machine was real, he'd seen it on two seperate occasions, when we went to into 2015, and after he'd crashed into a manure truck in 1955."  
Marty couldn't believe what he was hearing Biff had built a time machine too?? It was crazy…. But horribly realistic.   
So…. What are we going to do about it?" Marty asked.  
"Well," said Doc, pointing to the newspaper, "this is paper is from two weeks into the future. so this hasn't happened yet. yes, I think it should take about two weeks to get from California to New York by train."  
"What?" Marty stared  
"Don't think I brought you here just to tell you this story, Marty" Doc laughed. "No, you're going to help me save to the newsies."  
  



	4. Becoming a newsie

"This it?' Marty asked in what was supposed to be a calm voice.  
"Yup" Doc said happily  
"Yes!" Marty pumped his fist in the air. Sure, he wasn't two years old, but he'd just spent the last two weeks in a train, and, needless to say, his nerves were fraying. It looked like a sign from God when the huge, black locomotive rolled up to bustling Grand Central Station.   
"Mista Emmit Brown, private train?" A conductor asked Doc from below the window.   
'That's us. Come all the way from California" Doc answered.   
The conductor wrote something on a clipboard.   
"that seems ta be in orda" He told Doc. "come on."  
Doc and Marty rolled back the door leading onto the platform. Though it wasn't the cleanest in the world by any stretch of the imagination, Marty took a deep breathe of fresh air.   
"No time to dilly dally Marty." Said Doc with his usual maniac energy, and checking his watch. " We need to get you into town to buy you some newsie clothes."  
"what?'  
Doc ignored him. "come on, we'll catch a cab."  
He led Marty over to a small, horse-drawm carriage, and paid the driver five cents before climbing in.  
New York in the late 1800's was still as busy and bustling as in the late 1900's. The only differences were the fact that cars were unheard of, the buildings were tall, brick, and only 5 stories high, and newspaper boys shouted headlines, making the windows rattle  
"So that's what a newsie looks like" Marty said to himself as they passed a dirty, skinny boy in brown pants, a white shirt, and a light brown vest. All his clothes had miss match patches on them, and his shoes were kept together with leather string.   
Marty tried to picture himself in that crazy outfit, but it was hard to do.   
'Here we are Marty!" Doc said cheerfully as the carriage came to a stop.   
They found themselves parked outside a faded, wooden building with peeling yellow paint. In gold, loopy lettering, Parkers' Attire was written at the top.   
Doc creaked open the door.   
Inside, Marty found himself surrounded by shelves upon shelves of neatly folded garments, that looked strange compared to 1980's styles.   
An old man with sunken teeth and spectacles came out from a back door.   
'Clothes for this gentlemen" Doc told him in what Marty guessed was common language.   
"And something simple. Perhaps brown trousers, a white shirt…. A vest."  
"Yes sir" the man replied curtly, and began taking things off the shelves.  
A few minutes later, Marty found himself in 1890's clothes, looking just like the Newsboy he'd seen on the way over.   
He raised an eyebrow.  
"Perfect!" Doc exclaimed.   
"just one more thing……." Doc bent down and with a loud rip! Made two holes in the knees of Marty's pants.   
Either choosing to ignore it or not noticing the look of disgust on Marty's face, Doc triumphantly paid for the outfit and led the way out the door.  
So, remind me why I'm doing this again?" Marty asked as he and Doc made their way to The boy's home called Kloppman's  
"Well, Marty." Doc began. 'It's not so much a question of if we can stop Biff, but of what his motive is. First things first. So you're going to go under cover as a newsie and find that out."   
Marty fidgeted with his neckerchief. "Umm.. What about you?" He asked  
"Top secret." Doc whispered. "I'm sorry that I can't tell you, but who knows what futuristic devices biff might have gotten that might be picking up my every word!"  
"Right." Marty said. "Just tell me how you're planning to keep in touch?"  
At that, Doc pulled out two walkie talkies that were about the size of a playing card each, and besides the usual buttons had on them all sorts of strange knobs.   
"2020 model." Doc announced. "Well, here's the boys home. Good luck Marty!"  
"But~" Marty's words trailed off as he watched Doc run at breakneck speed in the opposite direction.   
The boy's home lobby housed one single desk behind which sat a wrinkled old man, whom Marty guessed was Mister Kloppman, gazing curiously at him.   
"rent for the night, son?" he asked croakily.   
Marty took a nickel out of his pocket. "uh, sure, thanks…" he said, his head spinning with thoughts on all that had happened. How was he supposed to find out why Biff was doing what Biff always does- seek and destroy. Right now, however, he had bigger things to worry about, as about ten newsies came loping down the back stairs.   
"Hey Kloppy!" one called, "how's da business going?' He was a short black haired boy about 17. One of his hands held a newspaper, and the other a very fat cigar.   
The boy looked over at Marty, did a double take, and grinned. "new customa? Now dats a surprise! Welcome to tha ranks."  
" er.. um, thanks." Marty answered weakly.   
'whose the new competition, race?' another with a eye patch and a wicked smile laughed.  
The boy called "race" jumped off the last stair and went up to Marty. He was quite a few inches shorter. " yah, whats ya name, anyway?" He asked casually. " well its Clint- I mean, Marty." Marty caught himself just in time. Clint Eastwood was supposed to be dead in California, and he couldn't take any chances.   
Race shook his head. "neva houd of a name like dat before. But anyways, meet the guys."  
  
"Hi" all of them muttered, casually giving a name. The kid with the eye patch was named Kid Blink, as Marty learned.  
" where ya from… Marty?" one asked. He was about Marty's height, with tan shin and deep brown eyes.   
Marty racked his brain for a good story. "er… the west."  
All the boys whistled loudly and looked at the boy who had spoken.   
"not near Santa Fe, by any chance?" He asked.  
Marty, without thinking, blurted out "yah! Santa Fe! That's where I'm from. …."  
All the boys stared at the brown-haired boy.  
"hear dat Cowboy, Santa Fe!"  
Suddenly, to Marty's immense relief, Mr. Kloppman stepped in. " Boys, you might be interested to know that Tibby's closes in 15 minutes."   
Race waved his cigar around. " thanks, Kloppy, see ya around, Marty."  
All the newsies waved one dirty hand and followed race out the door.  
"The room it directly up the stairs, son. Just take a bunk." MR. Kloppman said to Marty once all the newsies had gone.   
Marty quickly side stepped toward the staircase. "yah, uh, thanks, thanks a lot." He said   
He began to climb the creaky stairs to the room.   
It was all like a very strange dream. He shouldn't be climbing the stairs in a run-down building in the year 1885, he should be eating dinner at home in 1985……..   
'Doc will die for this." He said to himself.   
As if on cue, the futuristic walkie talkie that had been hidden safely in Marty's pocket began to buzz and give off static.   
Not believing his luck, Marty whipped it out placed it to his ear.  
"Marty?? Over, over" Doc Brown's voice said   
"DOC!" Marty yelled "I am going to-  
but Doc cut him off  
"no time to for casualties, Marty!!" He hissed "we have a urgent emergency!!"  
  
  



	5. A day on the town

Doc, Doc?" Marty yelled into the walkie talkie "what do you mean, 'an emergency'"   
but all he could hear from the other line was increasing static. For no more than a second, he could just faintly hear Doc Brown's voice. "Meet..-me…- Tibby's…noon." And then the line went dead.   
"Meet, me, Tibby's , noon?? 'Marty shouted into the silent walkie -talkie "whats that suppose to mean?"  
Trying not to think about it, Marty trudged up the staircase and re-placed the walkie talkie into his pants pocket.- He'd deal with this in the morning.   
At the top of the stairs, Marty found himself in a cheaply whitewashed, long rectangular room cluttered with about a dozen oak bunkbeds, each carelessly dressed with two croked white sheets. Most of them had signs, barely legible and very sloppy, painted on their sides, that said things such as, Crutchy's bunk, paws off, and, Jack's bunk- the king of New York. It took Marty some time to find a bunk that wasn't "occupied' but finally he found one cramped between two walls and a chest of drawers. Exhausted from the day's work, he quickly fell asleep to the bustling street sounds and soft music somewhere in the distance of New York in 1899.  
  
Marty woke up to blinding sunlight streaming through an open window. Squinting through brightness, he could barely make out a tall figure ahead of him, clad in what looked to be a white apron.   
That's funny…. He didn't think his mother owned any aprons.   
"Mom?' he called to the figure  
"just take it easy" said a deep voice off to the left. " can be hard da foust time getting' up dis owly.   
"I- I had the worst nightmare" Marty continued, He could hear snickers off in the distance. Where did those come from? "It had a Train, and a kid with a cigar."   
This time roars of laughter approached his ears.   
"uh….. yah.' Said the voice. "maybe you ought to stay in da Kloppman boys home for a while."  
"KLOPPMAN'S BOYS HOME!" Marty sprang up instantly and sat rigid against the backboard of his bunk bed. The curios faces of the New York newsies swam into focus.   
Kid Blink, the rather wicked looking boy who sported an eyepatch, hobbled over to the bed. He was dressed in an old ,white, bed sheet that had been tied around his waist like a skirt (or apron).  
"Mornin' Marty! I is ya motha! Heeheeheeeee….."   
Marty flinched as the deranged boy put his face level to Marty's  
" leave 'im alone Blink" said the boy called cowboy from The left of Marty's bunk bed,  
, who had spoken to Marty earlier.   
"sorry about that" cowboy apologized. "ya new to da newspaper-selling business, huh?'   
Marty yawned and got out of bed. "yah, uh, first time."   
"well" the cowboy continued, "if you've ever worked anywhere else, ya should pick it up pretty easy. Have ya?'  
" Burger King, for about a year" He answered.   
All the newsies gave each other looks. "whose the Burger King?" a kid with a crutch who'd Marty had been introduced as Crutchy asked.   
"never mind.' Marty said quickly.  
"ummm…anyways' Cowboys said. " I'd be willing to teach ya da ropes of the trade if ya like." All the boys smiled wide  
"good guy, cowboy' they said " always da good Samarawtin"  
" dats Jack' said Kid Blink, still dressed as Marty's mother and wiping away a tear. "best newsie there ever was."  
Realizing that he didn't have much of a choice, Marty sighed and went to a basin on one of the side table to wash his face " thanks, that'd be great" he murmered. All the newsies cheered.  
*******  
"Ext'r, Ext'r, read all about it!!!!!" the cowboy called at a busy street corner to a group of society ladies in long frilly dresses. " Tragic accident leaves Thousands dead and   
homeless!!!" He pointed to the front page of "The New York Times" to prove it.   
Marty glanced at the paper. " Local Farmer's barn burns down?" he asked.   
Cowboy gave him a reassuring wink. " well think of all da poor, innocent lives of mice and cows."   
He grinned maliciously.  
' But keep it down, Marty, here comes our first customer.'   
A finely dressed man strode over with a fretful look on his face. " Thousands die!' he exclaimed, handing Marty two penny's and taking a paper. "The horror of it!"   
As soon as the man left, Cowboy ushered Marty quickly down the street. " lets get out of here, that man will probably be back, and he wont be happy when he learns the thousands   
Dead are really livestock." he whispered, as the two found a small restaurant to sell outside of.   
The sun was high overhead now, and Marty guessed it was about 10:00 The two of them saw many other newsies coming and going around Tibby's as the day wore on. He guessed that it was a popular spot for teens in the 1890's.  
' are you sure the owner doesn't care if we sell outside his place?' Marty asked Cowboy, when he saw a disapproving couple going into the restaurant glare at them.  
"nah…. Mista Tibby doesn't care' Cowboy answered, staring at a paper headline that said " sewage problem may pose threat to citizens' health"   
" did you say Mr. TIBBY?' Marty asked, awestruck  
"yah, Mista Tibby, makes sense he should own the restaurant, Tibby's, that where standing in front of………… hey Marty, " he asked, still staring at the newspaper headline. "What do you think of- ' Deadly plague to hit Manhatten due to sewage calamity?'"  
But Marty didn't hear Cowboy. He was staring up at the red and white sign on which "Tibby's restaurant' was written   
"Meet-me-Tibby's-noon' he said to himself   
"Doc's message!"  
  
  
  



End file.
